


The Inevitable

by Florrama



Category: Stalking Jack the Ripper - Kerri Maniscalco
Genre: Also yes, Do I wish I was Liza in general?, Do I wish I was Liza in this fic?, F/M, I live vicariously though her dear readers, Modern AU, Pretty Scenery, Rare pairs deserve more love, Sexual Tension, and a hopefully very fun narrative, flirting disguised as insults, i will defend mephisto to the grave, im dead certain only about three people will want to read this fic, it is a rare pair, me included, there’s a wedding, yes - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23777866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florrama/pseuds/Florrama
Summary: Or, the Liza x Mephistopheles fic no one was waiting for.—Audrey-rose and Thomas are now mister and missus Cresswell-Wadsworth. The after-party is in full swing, and Liza is having the time of her life. Enter Ayden Thorne, who is more than ready to rile miss Clarence up and prove that the night is far from over yet.
Relationships: Liza Clarence/Ayden Thorne, Liza Clarence/Mephistopheles
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	The Inevitable

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to the two other people that will read this. My comrades in the Mephistopheles defence league.

It’s just beginning to get dark when the party truly picks up. Children are either drifting off in their parents’ laps, or sprinting through the dancing crowd high off sugar. Couples are beginning to get rowdier, alcohol thrumming through their veins and pulling them infinitely closer. Shoes and purses have been deposited on the floor, and jackets and ties lay hung over the back of chairs. By the time Liza manages to scramble out of the crowd, her dress clutched tightly in beautifully manicured hands so not to get caught under stomping feet, her once perfectly messy hair is now a perfectly messy disaster, wisps stuck to her forehead and curls falling further down her back. She’s certain there’s a bright red flush to her cheeks, and a slight smear of black mascara beneath her eyes. 

But Liza is also too exhilarated to care.

She steadily makes her way across the grass, bare feet sinking slightly between the thin blades. Her shoes have been lost some few hours ago, not long after the speeches and food and quite frankly glorious cake. Liza had briefly considered sating her mother’s desire to marry her off by immediately proposing to the wonderful baker. The ring already on her finger had put her off immediately. Liza is never one to shy away from a challenge, but breaking a marriage isn’t something she’ll ever be ready for. 

Though, there’s always one challenge Liza will not shy away from. 

Ayden Thorne, fondly known as Mephistopheles among the close circle of friends, and not-so-fondly known as the man that tried to steal his girlfriend by Thomas Cresswell-Wadsworth, has become a continuous challenge to Liza over the past few years. Firstly, it was listening to Audrey-Rose complain about the man on a daily basis. Secondly, it was watching Thomas mope as Audrey-Rose cleverly decided to work with the same man that was ardently seeking her affections. And finally, consistently having to put up with his presence at every public and private function the now Cresswell-Wadsworths deigned to attend or host. 

He’s pleasant enough company, especially now that he doesn’t stare after Audrey-Rose with that awfully wistful expression of his. But he also drives Liza up the wall like no one else can.

To an almost terrifying degree. 

The man in question leans elegantly against the open (God bless the newly-wed couple) bar, glass of whiskey on ice in hand and sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His tie remains loose around an unbuttoned collar, revealing just a slither of tanned skin. Liza would love to blame the alcohol, but really she has always found the man insanely attractive. And she’s only had one drink; hardly enough to impact her perception. 

It’s a pure predicament that he seems to have been put on earth to push her to her wit’s end.

She supposes that at the very least, it’s a blessing she has the exact same, irritating effect on him.

“Ayden Thorne. What a lovely surprise.” Liza rests her elbows on the polished wood of the bar, waving gleefully at the bartender in an attempt to gain his attention. There’s a deliciously fruity cocktail with her name on it - she can already taste the silkiness on her tongue. Ayden allows a single closed-lipped smile - more of a smirk if Liza is being pedantic - as his eyes move lazily to Liza. 

“Not as lovely as you are, Miss Clarence.”

“Oh, Mister Thorne.” Liza gasps, playfully slapping his arm. The bartender slides the tall glass of bright pink across the counter to Liza, who immediately takes a sip and sighs in pure, unadulterated delight. “You do know how to make a woman blush.” 

A soft huff - which could almost be mistaken for a laugh if Liza was feeling hopeful enough - slips from his lips before he finishes his drink. The glass clinks back down onto the counter, and Ayden finally faces her. 

“I heard you had quite the interesting year. Almost ran away with a magician, was it?” The taunting tone of his voice matches his devilish smirk perfectly - slotting together like the most beautiful puzzle. Liza’s own smile turns sickly sweet, teeth almost bared, as she leans in a little closer. After all, harsh blows must also be delivered in close proximity for optimal effect. 

“Escape artist, actually.” She purrs in return. Her fingers trace the rim of her glass, and Ayden’s eyes dip briefly to watch the motion. “But at least I wasn’t foolish enough to lust after the Bride.” His eyes snap back up to hers, and his smirk spreads into a grin, as sharp as a knife. Liza can almost feel the cool metal of it sliding gently down her bare back. She fights the urge to shiver.

“If I was still lusting after the bride, my dear Liza, I wouldn’t have attended her wedding now, would I?”

Liza shrugs, taking another swig of her drunk. 

“I sometimes wonder if you’re a masochist.” 

“And the enjoyment you get out of winding me up something dreadful must be sadistic.” 

“Only with you, Ayden. You’re special.”

“Careful, my poor heart can’t take many more confessions.” 

Within moments they’re almost toe to toe: Liza’s bare feet brushing against the mirrored shine of Ayden’s dress shoes. His hand rests on the counter, placed mere millimetres away from her arm. A single strand of silken chocolate falls down into his eyes, breaking away from the otherwise perfect slick of his hair, and Liza fights every urge to brush it back. And then mess his hair up entirely, of course. Just to piss him off further.

She does briefly wonder how he would react if she tugged on it. 

Liza realises her mistake - though she does use the word mistake rather lightly this case - when his jaw clenches and his eyes gain a heat more intense than anything purely flirtatious like before.

Obviously, Liza has entertained the idea of having her way with Ayden Thorne before. Multiple times, if she’s being honest (and honesty is the best policy). But the possibility has never even come close to fruition. 

Until now. 

Just then, Liza catches a flurry of movement around Ayden’s figure: male silhouette, desperately seeking out his date. Liza feels the colour drain from her cheeks. 

“Shit.” 

She turns her back immediately, grabbing her drink and swallowing the rest of it in a few quick gulps. Ayden’s eyes are on her, burning with curiosity - and questions she doesn’t particular want to give him the satisfaction of asking. Liza risks a glance over her shoulder - and regrets or immediately. He may not have seen her (yet) but he is certainly heading her way. In a brief moment of panic, and completely fogged up senses, Liza grabs onto Ayden’s wrist, her nails digging unforgivingly into his tan skin, and begins to drag him towards the entrance to the large tent. 

“Don’t say a word.” She hisses as they slip out into the night. The complete absence of his reluctance to follow her, or any attempt to break away does momentarily cross her mind - but it’s easily forgotten when the man somehow manages to weave his fingers through her own. It almost makes her falter. 

As they approach the small lake, Liza leads them both towards a small hideaway that she had scoped out earlier that day for entirely different reasons. A small swinging bench lays hidden behind a large willow tree, beautifully decorated by soft, golden lanterns and vases of white flowers. Liza pushes Ayden through the willow leaves - quite unceremoniously really - and quickly searches the path down. Just in case. By the time she turns back to Ayden, one hand on her hip and the other tangled in her hair in a show of pure frustration, he waits with his hands in his pockets and a single, raised eyebrow. 

Liza falters, only to scowl.

“I had a date. It didn’t go as planned.”

“And here I thought you wanted to have your wicked way with me.” 

“Oh - shut up. I’m much too classy to drag any lover beneath a tree.” Liza hisses back - not admitting that actually, it had been the plan with said date. “He seemed like he’d be fun - but he isn’t fun. In the slightest. He has the sexual appeal of a supermodel until he opens his sodding mouth.” 

The bench swings gently as she sits in it with a quite huff. Her arms sit across her chest, and she slumps in an effortless show of lady-like elegance. It doesn’t take long for Ayden to join her. They both look out across the lake in a surprising show of peace. Even when he looks down at her, Liza doesn’t feel the usual thrum of annoyance. She instead looks up to meet his gaze, and pouts.

“Just ask what you want to ask. I’m sure my night can’t get any more embarrassing.”

“Is this some sort of rebound off the magician? Don’t give me that look, I’m only wondering. I don’t get the juicy details like Audrey-Rose does.”

Liza softens her glare - but only slightly. She still wants him to feel the force of her frustration. There’s something quite appealing in making the man just that little bit uncomfortable.

“Firstly: she’s my cousin, you are not. Secondly: escape artist. And finally: he said he was an intellectual and that pleased my mother to no end when I told her he was my date. I’m beginning to think that people who call themselves intellectuals actually mean boring.” She falls silent, sinking into the seat a little bit more as her next words hover on the tip of her tongue. Liza wrinkles her nose, sighs, and speaks under her breath in hopes that he doesn’t quite hear her. “And he was a good kisser.”

There’s a moment of silence - before it’s broken by soft, sudden, husky laughter. It leaves goosebumps along her skin, and Liza shooting up in anger.

“Stop laughing!”

“You brought a man along simply because he was a good kisser? Does that balance out his shitty personality?”

“Of course not. Let’s take you, for example.”

Liza shifts in the seat so that she can sit on her knees, making her almost eye level with man she is about to positively roast into next year. Though by the way his slips stretch into a grin, and he leans back into the seat, arm stretched along the back so that his fingers nearly brush her arm - it almost seems as though he’s enjoying it.

The bastard.

“Me?” 

Liza scoffs.

“Yes, _you_. I have no idea what you kiss like, since not even Audrey-Rose would spill the beans on that one - curse her tight lips and modesty - but even if you were the best kisser in London - nay, the world! - I wouldn’t touch you with a barge pole.” 

She taps his chest tightly, crisply punctuating her point. His own hand rises to keep it in place.

“No?”

“No. Your personality needs dire work. It simply isn’t gentlemanly to enjoy driving innocent women to insanity.”

“I didn’t think gentlemen were your type.”

“You don’t know anything about my type, Ayden Thorne.”

“I’ve always been a quick learner.”

They’re almost chest to chest. Neither pull away. It’s at this point that Liza acknowledges that yes, she would in fact still snog Ayden Thorne senseless, and quite frankly enjoy every second of it, despite his inane ability to push her over the edge of sanity, if she weren’t so equally stubborn. The way his eyes remain entirely focused on hers, even while her own dip to the motion of her fingers absentmindedly playing with his loosened tie. She doesn’t quite know if she means to strangle him or pull him closer - but with each passing minute the latter appears increasingly likely. His thumb runs over the back of her hand - and it’s only then that her eyes lift back up to his. 

“I’d be an awful teacher. Far too impatient.”

“What you lack in patience I’m sure you’d make up for in enthusiasm.”

Liza sighs, feels her breath heat the minimal space between them.

“You’re such a cad.” And it is said in such a mournful way that Ayden huffs out a laugh, finally pulling back and allowing Liza the breathing space she so desperately hadn’t wanted. With a soft groan, Liza stretches out her legs and stands. “I need another drink. See what you do to me, Thorne?”

As soon as the words slip from between her lips Liza is heading towards the curtain of willow: She’s quite frankly too scared to wait for his response. 

And then she regrets it immediately.

Her escape is foiled by the soft, masculine call of her name along the path, and Liza only manages to pop her head out from the cover of the willow tree before she dives straight back in - and straight into Ayden’s chest. She looks up, briefly starry eyed, before her name is called out again and the pair break into action. Ayden grabs Liza’s hand this time, pulling her - much more gently than she had him - further down the hidden path and towards the denser area of trees. Liza ignores the twigs beneath her bare feet, though when she stands on a particularly spiky twig does consider jumping on to Ayden’s back. 

They stop with Ayden’s back to a tree, his hand still in Liza’s while the other rests on her arm. They’re close enough to still hear the calls of her name - but it remains unnoticed.

Liza takes a step towards Ayden, noticing the slight bob of his throat and the tightening of his fingers along her skin. Her own hands come to rest on his stomach and slowly slide up towards his chest. It doesn’t shock her at all that he feels like steel under there - but it’s the slight softness of his belly and the stutter of his breath that leaves Liza truly lightheaded. 

“You know, I’ve always considered being a teacher.” One hand wraps itself in his tie while the other lifts to skim across his throat. Her nail scrapes across the sharp bump. His lips part. She feels her own breath leave her lungs. “Just haven’t found the right student yet.” 

“God, you make me weak.” Ayden breaths out, hand slipping round to the bare expanse of her back as the other rests against her cheek.

They meet in the middle. 

And it has nothing on mister-intellectual in the slightest. 

“I lied”. Liza breaks away with a gasp as Ayden presses searing, open mouthed kisses to the expanse of her pale neck. It seems Ayden Thorne has left the building, and Mephistopheles has come to play. “Kissing you is totally worth your trash pile of a personality.”

“Oh, Liza.” He murmurs against her skin in return. The heavy hands at her waist - yet so gentle, her mush of a brain happily reminds her - shifts her around so that her back is now pressing against the knobbly texture of the tree. “You certainly know how to woo a man.”

Teeth scrape against her collar bone, and fingers wind and tug at his hair. 

“I lied again. Your personality isn’t trash, more of a paper waste bin.”

“Liza.”

“Stop talking, I know.”

Her lips are back on his in an instant, before they make a tantalising path down his own neck. Liza happily kisses the triangle of skin that had been teasing her all evening. A soft laugh emits from the exact same spot. 

“I knew I caught you looking.” Is all he confesses in that smug, taunting way of his before she is lifted into his arms and exposed to an all new type of pressure and heat. 

But Liza presses a hand to his chest before he can lean back in, taking far too much pleasure in how secure she feels in his arms. Much more secure than she had ever felt with Harry Houdini, anyway. 

“What is it?”

The poor man looks concerned. Liza feels a flash of guilt, before smiling innocently and all but batting her eyelashes. 

“Fancy giving me a piggyback back to the tent? No shoes was an awful idea.”

He pants for a second, breath leaving his lungs in quick motions. And then he laughs - bright and husky and loud. Liza can’t help but grin in return. 

“I’ll do anything if you kiss me again.”

Her own laughs spill into the space between them as her hands already make their way back into his now - satisfyingly - wrecked hair. 

“Anything for the perfect student.”

In all honesty, Liza can’t quite meet Audrey-Rose eyes by the time the pair make it back to the tent. She does hold her gaze long enough, however, to see the passing of a twenty pound note between the newly wedded couple, an all too smug Bride - and a fairly sulky Bridegroom.

But Liza can’t blame them, not really. Since the moment Liza had first opened her mouth to insult the pretentious git, and Ayden Thorne had snipped back in quick tandem - it’s only looking back that the end collision truly seemed inevitable.


End file.
